


He's a Friend of Dorothy

by dyingpoet



Category: The Outsiders - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Internalized Homophobia, Intimacy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Canon, Slurs, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26244466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyingpoet/pseuds/dyingpoet
Summary: Johnny's always known there was something not quite right about himself.
Relationships: Johnny Cade/Dallas Winston
Comments: 19
Kudos: 101





	He's a Friend of Dorothy

**Author's Note:**

> it's been a hot minute <3

Johnny was in the fourth grade when Suzy Harris tried to kiss him on the cheek on Valentine’s day and he pushed her away. She stared at him for a second before bursting into tears and he stared after her wide eyed until he could convince his feet to start moving again and take him to the nearest bathroom.

He cried then, not really sure why, and he cried again the next day when Suzy’s older brother dragged him behind the dumpster behind the school on his way home and shoved his face into the dirt with a knee on his back until he’d almost passed out. 

“Faggot.”

The guy, he’d never bothered to ask for his name, growled it in his ear before he finally let up and left Johnny lying limp and gasping for air. He knew what it meant and he cried harder. 

When he finally picked himself up and stumbled back onto the sidewalk he didn’t get more than a couple feet before he heard footsteps pounding on the pavement behind him and he jerked when a hand came down on his shoulder.

“You okay?”

That was the day he met Sodapop Curtis and Steve Randle, and after they’d gotten a good look at him, still scrubbing the tears out of his eyes and blood dripping down his nose, they’d dragged him back to Soda’s house and decided they were going to be friends. 

Johnny remembered not wanting to go home that first day over there. Their Mom had held a rag to his nose until it stopped bleeding and the other boys, Darry and Two-bit, both older, and Ponyboy, a little younger, had accepted him into their little group with an ease Johnny marvelled at.

Ponyboy, surprisingly, had been the first one to notice that he didn’t much seem like he wanted to go home and he waited until the rest of the boys went back inside to ask him why. 

“My folks get on me real hard to do my homework s’all,” Johnny answered carefully and Pony had accepted it easily and waved before running inside after his brothers. 

Johnny came up with a lot of excuses like that for the first couple years hanging around the Curtis house. He always had a feeling Mr. and Mrs. Curtis knew more than they were letting on, always asking him to stay for dinner and generally keeping him around until the sun started setting and he really, _really_ had to get back home. 

The boys had always bought it though. They didn’t see any reason why Johnny would have to lie.

* * *

When Johnny hit the sixth grade Dallas Winston was the new kid in the seventh and it wasn’t long before Soda and Steve managed to get him over to the Curtis house just like they had with Johnny a few years earlier. Maybe it took a little longer, Dallas was real rough around the edges compared to the rest of them, but one day when Johnny was walking back from school with Ponyboy Dallas was sitting on the front porch with Darry and a cigarette in his mouth, eyeing the pair of them.

“Dal, this is Johnny, he lives down the street. You already know Pony.”

Dallas had looked Johnny up and down, eyes lingering on the fading bruise on his jaw right under his ear. “Where’d you get that?”

Johnny had to fight to keep from squirming under the older’s hard eye, but the excuse was already in the back of his throat and it came easily. “I tripped, smacked it on a table at home, s’no big deal.”

Johnny could tell right that second that Dallas didn’t believe him even though Darry and Pony hummed in acknowledgement, convinced over the years that Johnny was just plain unlucky with stuff like that.

“Sure,” Dallas replied cooly, and Johnny had scurried inside after Ponyboy before he had the chance to say anything else.

* * *

It was another year before Dallas managed to catch Johnny in a lie. They’d gotten a lot closer by then; after Dallas didn’t ask any more questions about Johnny and the occasional bruise he’d let himself hang around the older greaser more.

It was around the same time Johnny had told Belle Richards that he wasn’t going to Sadie Hawkins anyway, and that it wasn’t anything personal and maybe she should try asking Sodapop instead since he was pretty sure nobody had asked him yet.

That was a lie, it was personal, and just about every girl in their junior high had already gone about asking Soda. But she was real nice about it, she really was a nice girl. Just about all the guys said so. She’d moved by the time they all hit high school but Johnny remembered she had long blonde hair and honey colored eyes. Guys talked about her in the locker room sometimes. Johnny should’ve wanted to go with her. He didn’t. 

He’d figured out he was a queer at just about the same time his old man decided he didn’t care to keep from hitting him in places people could see anymore, and that night he’d nearly knocked a couple of Johnny’s teeth loose by the time he’d worn himself out.

The next morning when he scurried into the bathroom he almost cringed at the sight of it. His lip was busted on the top and bottom and from the corner of his mouth to his cheekbone on one side had gone purple. 

“Shit.”

He didn’t go into school. Dallas hadn’t gone into school either, and by the time Johnny realized that Dallas was already watching him walk up from his seat in the back of a busted out Chevy. If he turned back then Dallas would’ve called after him anyway. 

“The hell happened to you?”

Johnny, voice flat, had mumbled something about getting hit in the face during gym class the day before, not really meeting Dallas’ eye. 

“Yer lying,” the older said, sure of himself like he always was, and for once Johnny didn’t protest. He became very interested in his shoelaces and Dallas kept talking. “I asked Darry once, he said somethin’ about you bein’ ‘accident prone’.”

Dallas drawled out the last two words with a mocking tone and Johnny flinched. Dallas’ voice was softer the next time.

“‘S yer folks ain’t it?”

Johnny could practically fill a book up with all the things he’d told the guys over the last few years to keep any of them from asking that question, and he surprised himself with how easily he gave in when someone finally asked it. Dallas had that effect on him. He was impatient, and he would’ve gotten angry if Johnny lied and dragged the conversation on. 

Besides, Johnny always felt strange around Dallas. 

A soft, “Yeah,” was all he said, and when Dallas didn’t say anything after a second he risked a glance up. Something flashed across Dallas’ face that Johnny couldn’t quite place and then he was being grabbed by his bicep and dragged in the general direction of the Curtis house.

His grip was tight enough where Johnny knew he was mad, and right before they got to the porch Dallas stopped and looked down at Johnny. “They mind if ya don’t come home at night?”

“Not much.”

“Sleep here tonight.”

It was a directive, and Johnny didn’t get much time to answer either way before Dallas was pushing him through the front door and Mrs. Curtis was looking at him with a sick look on her face. She wasn’t surprised. 

Johnny ended up crying right about then and Mrs. Curtis gently took him by the elbow and led him to the bathroom. That was the first time she patched him up, and like every other time after that, Dallas leaned against the bathroom door frame and watched.

* * *

After that Johnny started sleeping on the Curtis couch more often than not. Sometimes Steve was there too, about a year before his Mom ran off and ever since about two or three days a week he turned up when his old man threw him out. 

Dallas had somehow always managed to know when Johnny was staying over, even when he started spending some of his days around the Shepard’s part of town and plain stopped going to school. 

He’d always show up before Johnny went to sleep though, sometimes looking pretty beat up himself. On those days Mr. Curtis would end up talking low with Dallas in the kitchen while Johnny and the others splayed out in the living room, watching T.V. or doing homework. He never got to ask what they talked about.

Every so often, when it was real cold, January or February when the Curtis’ couldn’t afford to keep the heat on at night, Dallas and Johnny ended up slumped together on the couch. 

On those nights Johnny didn’t sleep much. As far as he knew, everyone was still buying the excuse that he just wasn’t into girls yet at that point, and he still felt something like guilt whenever he looked over at Dallas while he was sleeping. It almost made him sick to do it, back then. 

There were a few times where Johnny woke up in the middle of the night, usually from a nightmare, he used to get them a lot then, and Dallas would throw an arm over him, half asleep in the closest Johnny had ever seen him come to a comforting gesture.

Those nights Johnny fell back asleep with a knot of happiness and fear in his stomach. He was queer for Dallas and it made his skin crawl.

* * *

A year or so later it was a week after the Curtis parents funeral and Johnny hadn’t slept at their house since. It didn’t feel right, like he was intruding, and he didn’t know if he could handle being in there without bawling anyway. 

He was sprawled out with his back against an old oak tree in the lot, hands jammed in his pockets to try and pull his jacket closer against himself when he saw Dallas walking up.

He hadn’t seen him since the day after the funeral, as far as he knew nobody had, and the older greaser looked a little worse for wear, to put it lightly. There were dark, bruised circles under his eyes and his clothes were hanging off him like he’d lost weight. When he walked up to Johnny he looked him over, his usual way of greeting, before speaking.

“You got any place to crash tonight?”

Johnny didn’t expect him to mention anything about the Curtis’ or the funeral or any of it and the fact that he didn’t was almost comforting. Dallas hadn’t changed. 

There was a lump forming in his throat just the same though, he couldn’t take stuff the same as Dallas, and he shook his head instead of answering. He could hear his folks hollering at each other all that afternoon and even though it’d died down now he didn’t feel much like going back.

They both looked at the Curtis house for a second knowingly and Dallas shook his head, frowning down at Johnny. “Ya can stay with me tonight then, Buck don’t mind and it’s supposed’ta rain tonight anyhow.”

Johnny started to protest and Dallas cut him off with a glare, rocking back on his heels impatiently. “Just come on would ya? I ain’t draggin’ ya to the hospital tomorrow if ya get sick out here and I sure as hell ain’t lettin’ you go home.”

That last bit almost made him pause. Dallas never really brought up Johnny’s parents, it got him too worked up and he knew Johnny didn’t like talking about it much anyway. 

Dallas didn’t seem fazed though, and Johnny brushed it off in favor of accepting the hand Dallas offered him and hauling himself up off the ground.

That night it stormed hard, and Johnny spent most of it curled up on one side of Dallas’ bed trying his absolutely hardest not to make a sound. In spite of himself, he ended up crying. He couldn’t help it really, one of the ways he got himself to fall asleep was to pick out random memories and play them over in his head. He was still grieving though, and the memory he picked out ended up being of that first time Mrs. Curtis patched him up after she found out about his folks beating on him. 

He ended up having to stuff a fist in his mouth to keep quiet. It didn’t do much good though, a minute or so later the bed creaked and there was a weight thrown over his back and across his chest. Dallas spoke softly, close to Johnny’s ear.

“I miss ‘em too, kid.”

For whatever reason that broke the dam and Johnny let out one choked sob before starting to cry in earnest, shoulder’s shaking underneath Dallas’ arm and the embarrassment of it all made it even harder to get himself under control. 

There was a brief second where Dallas stiffened, and when Johnny couldn’t stop himself crying he pulled him a little closer so Johnny’s back was pressed firmly against Dallas’ chest. 

“‘S alright, s’okay.”

Dallas’ attempt at soothing him sounded clumsy and unsure, but when it became clear Johnny wasn’t in the position to care one way or the other, Dallas ended up just hushing him quietly, muffled occasionally by thunder, until he ended up crying himself to sleep.

* * *

Neither of them mentioned it again, but Johnny thought about that night a lot. He chalked it up to both of them grieving the loss of what were basically their adoptive parents, but Dallas changed a bit after that night, at least when he was around Johnny.

In the next few months while the gang slowly started to gain a sense of normalcy again Johnny found himself spending more and more of his time with Dallas. It wasn’t strange for him to spend two or three nights a week at the older greaser’s place. Sharing a bed didn’t feel awkward. In spite of himself Johnny didn’t feel as guilty when he remembered that he shouldn’t look at Dallas the way he did sometimes. 

There were a few times when Dallas was either drunk or half asleep when he would have that same type of clumsy affection with Johnny that he’d had that night after the funeral. Sometimes when that happened Johnny let himself imagine Dallas thinking about him the same way he thought of the older greaser.

It was painful letting himself think like that though, because he always ended up jolting back to reality. Dallas wasn’t a queer. Dallas would probably throw him out on the street if he found out Johnny was a queer.

_ “Faggot” _ , he thought once to himself, quietly when Dallas mumbled something in his sleep and tugged Johnny towards himself almost reflexively on a night when they’d passed a joint back and forth until it burnt Johnny’s fingertips. Dallas had fallen asleep stoned, it was late, but Johnny laid awake for a while, riding out the buzz until he started coming down.  _ “He’d call you a faggot.” _

The words sounded too harsh even in his head and he almost flinched. Dallas groaned and pulled him a little bit tighter. Johnny let himself imagine anyway.

* * *

About a month after that night Johnny was in Dallas’ bed, staring at the ceiling when the other boy asked him a question that made him stiffen like he’d been slapped. 

Honestly, he’d thought Dallas had fallen asleep already and almost convinced himself he was hearing things when Dallas nudged him a little with his foot.

Johnny snapped out of his initial shock and turned his head to see Dallas looking over at him, eyes half-lidded and tired. “Huh?”

“I asked if ya liked girls.”

He said it like it was nothing, and he must’ve taken Johnny’s silence for something different than what it was, panic, because he kept talking. “I ain’t never seen you even really talk to any chicks, y’know? Always sorta figured you were a late bloomer, like Pony, Christ that kid wouldn’t notice a broad if she threw herself at him.”

Dallas chuckled quietly at his own joke and Johnny tried to swallow the fear in his chest. After a few seconds Johnny not saying anything became a statement in and of itself and Dallas broke the silence again. 

“Shit, didn’t mean ta freak ya by askin’, kid.”

If Johnny didn’t say something now Dallas was going to come to a conclusion by himself so Johnny cleared his throat and croaked out, “Nah it’s cool.”

He could see Dallas looking at him still out of the corner of his eye. He wanted an answer still; Dallas never really cared all that much about making people uncomfortable once he got his mind set on something, and that applied to Johnny too.

Logically, Johnny knew he had to lie. He had two different options of what to say and only one of them could end with him getting thrown out of one of the only safe places he had to sleep at night. He needed to lie.

After a beat, he turned his head to look at Dallas. He would know if he was lying. 

_ “He’d never hurt you, you know that,”  _ he thought, and then,  _ “Do you?” _

“Johnny?”

“No.”

There was a brief, electrical silence. 

Dallas’ eyes lost the tired look they’d had a moment ago and Johnny felt his stomach twist up like he was going to be sick. “You don’t?”

Johnny didn’t trust himself to speak anymore and he shook his head. There was a feeling of dread and panic settling on his chest; you couldn’t take something like that back.

“You sure?”

Something changed slightly in Dallas’ voice then and Johnny suddenly regained the ability to speak. “Yeah, I mean-”

Johnny’d never actually kissed anyone before and he laid completely still when it happened, eyes wide open in shock, until Dallas started to pull back. He’d never kissed anyone, but Dallas definitely had, and once Johnny leaned in a little and awkwardly reached out to put a hand on the other’s neck like he thought seemed like something he should do, Dallas gave him a lead to follow. 

The whole kiss probably lasted five seconds after that, Dallas thankfully being the one to finally pull back since Johnny didn’t trust himself to be able to move right then.

He took a breath and said the only thing that came to mind. “Dal?”

“Yeah?”

He could count Dallas’ eyelashes from how close they were. “I-you ain’t fuckin’ with me, right?”

Even saying it outloud made Johnny start to feel sick all over again and it must’ve shown on his face because Dallas answered right away. “No.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

They looked at each other in silence for another second and Johnny felt like something had been cut loose inside of him and his whole body relaxed. He didn’t realize he was smiling until Dallas started smirking at him. “What?”

“I just-” Johnny started, cutting himself off and feeling a sudden sense of urgency to get Dallas to understand the relief he felt in that moment. “Y’know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

He leaned forward and kissed Dallas again to keep from crying. 

**Author's Note:**

> idek what this is cuz i sorta wrote it to get through writers block but kinda ended up liking it?? its been a while since i wrote for this fandom tho so idrk?? 
> 
> drop a kudos or a comment if u enjoyed this tho!!! im trying to get back into writing and the encouragement is Needed ❤❤


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